


gavin consumes a potentially lethal amount of caffeine

by twinkshish



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Gavin Reed Redemption, Gen, Humiliation, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Omorashi, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Public Humiliation, Wetting, gavin and connor are sort of friends here idk, hank is just there for the food, its piss babes!, the author works through his trauma by giving it to a character :'), theres actually not that much piss for a pissfic go figure, tina chris and gavin are like the plastics of the dpd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 14:03:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15607884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twinkshish/pseuds/twinkshish
Summary: Gavin really should watch how much coffee he drinks.





	gavin consumes a potentially lethal amount of caffeine

**Author's Note:**

> so! if u didnt see the tags, content warning for referenced child abuse and a sort of panic attack. this is also a piss fic so like, if thats not ur thing dont fight me pls i am very small and weak
> 
> i would not have been able to do this without the help of several ppl in this discord im in! shoutout to yall, i dont know yalls ao3s but id die for you
> 
> also im not gonna tag it to clog the tag but gavin is trans in everything i write thx for your time

“Oh my god, she did _what?_ " Gavin snorted into his cup of coffee, a grin pulling at his lips as he dodged Tina’s playful shove.

 

“It was  _one_ time, Chris,” she whined—the man in question stuck his tongue out and waggled his eyebrows in a glorious impression of breakdancing caterpillars, holy motherfucking shit. Gavin shook his head, giggling to himself (seriously, this man was a _father_ ) as Tina draped herself over the larger man, pouting, “Besides, it was on accident.”

 

“How the hell do you eat pussy on _accident_?”

 

Coffee blew through his nose, _ow_ , as Gavin shriek-laughed in surprise, startling the poor receptionist as they shuffled through the DPD’s clearance. Chris doubled over, hanging onto a wall for support, wheezing a “holy  _shit_ what was _that_ ” as Gavin covered his mouth, eyes watering from both mirth and pain ( _for the love of god_ **_do not snort hot liquids_** ).

 

“Jesus, that’s gotta be a Detroit record—nearly _three feet_.” Gavin gave Tina the ol’ one-finger-salute, wiping a stray tear away as he sighed, mourning the last of his coffee. Tossing the empty cup away ( _KOBE_ ) he leaned on his desk, mock-glaring at her. She got the hint, _kindly_ returning the salute with a grumbled “don’t cry about it, I’ll get you another one you big baby.”

 

The decorative mug (“SKATE FAST EAT ASS”) was slammed down on his desk not a moment too soon; Gavin grabbed it and chugged it all in one go, not even looking up from his terminal. He heard a soft, awed “ _Jesus_ ” as Tina walked away, vaguely registering that the coffee tasted...salty? Yeah, that was salt. He couldn’t find it in himself to care, clacking away at his computer for what felt like both seconds and  _hours_ before a shadow loomed over his desk.

 

“Detective Reed, did you get enough sleep last night?” Gavin looked up, coming face-to-face with a certain plastic prick— _Connor_ , the teeny-tiny _nice_ part of him chided. The android’s brows were furrowed in concern, LED flickering between yellow and blue, and Gavin _really_ hoped he wasn’t analyzing him.

 

As much as Connor was creeping him out right now, Gavin had to admit that their relationship had gotten much better in the months since the revolution. He still had his own personal demons to work through, insecurities that had reared their ugly heads and caused him to lash out at Connor (because the androids were easy targets, and _mean_ was easy). But Gavin had to suck it up, and recognize that he was wrong—it had started with an incredibly awkward apology (which Chris _still_ used as the punchline for half his jokes, what an asshole). Of course, that didn’t mean smooth sailing, but his genuine desire to be a better person coupled with Connor being a pure-ass motherfuckin’ cinnamon roll helped their strained relationship grow into something more friendly. Now, however...

 

“It’s Gavin,” he griped, turning back to his terminal and willing Connor to _go away_. “And I...it doesn’t matter!” Defensive walls which he had worked _so hard_ to break came shooting back up again as the memories of last night came back with a vengeance: memories of tall, shapeless figures shouting at each other and then him, glass shattering on the floor and digging into his palms, staring at the back of a super-genius who was _everything_ he could never be, who made _them_ happy, who _left him behind_ —

 

Gavin was broken out of his trance by Connor shaking his shoulder gently, LED this time a solid yellow. _Fuck_ , he was really losing it. Rubbing his temples a little, he sighed and looked back up at Connor, offering a weak smile that came out more as a grimace.

 

“Y-Yeah, I got the full eight hours,” he snorted weakly; Connor didn’t look reassured, but dropped the subject, thankfully (not before offering Gavin another cup of coffee [“MILF ENERGY”], which he gladly accepted). The day seemed to drag on _forever_ —Report Day™ was always boring as all hell. The only reprieve Gavin granted himself was the occasional break to refill his coffee, hardly aware of a pair of chocolate-brown eyes watching him worriedly (and analyzing the caffeine content, because _seriously_ , Gavin should be dead by now, that was _way_ above the recommended dose for an adult man his age).

 

_Finally_ , lunch time. Stretching his arms high over his head, Gavin yawned, blinking away sleepiness from the monotony of the day. He shifted slightly; he needed to take a piss, but it could wait. First, food (and coffee. Please let there be coffee.) He grabbed his coat, ready to book it to the nearest slimy fast-food place, but was stopped by Connor (again? seriously?).

 

“Detect—ah, Gavin!” the android smiled, waving enthusiastically. Hank stood by his side, looking not nearly as excited to see him, but tolerating Gavin’s presence. “Hank and I—” the older man snorted, earning an elbow to the ribs, “ _Hank and I_ were wondering if you wanted to come eat lunch with us.” Gavin narrowed his eyes, scanning Connor for any sign of deception (which wouldn’t be hard, the kid read like an open book); finding none, he shrugged. What harm could it do?

 

“The...Chicken Feed?” Hank pulled up to the shady-looking food truck and clambered right out of his car, Connor following easily as Gavin hesitated (hey, can’t blame him for bumming a ride, _gas is fucking_ **_expensive_** ). He shrugged to himself—couldn’t be any worse than the crap he usually ate—and got out of the car, slamming the door behind him. The (presumable) owner of the place looked up from wiping a very suspicious looking stain as they approached the counter, eyes narrowing slightly at Connor but otherwise greeting them politely enough.

 

“The usual,” Hank grunted, scowling as if he dared the guy to try _anything_ against Connor. The android himself simply waved a hand, not wanting anything, leaving Gavin to order. Hmm…

 

“I’ll have a quarter-pounder, extra cheese, and fries. Oh, and a large coffee.”

 

He very deliberately ignored Connor’s disapproving look.

 

The three crowded around the small table as soon as they got their food, Gavin almost immediately downing half the cup. He coughed harshly (damn, that’s _hot_ ) and winced a little. It went _straight_ to his bladder, and he shifted a little. He could wait, it was only lunch…

 

* * *

 

Gavin was nearly crying from laughter, bent over the remains of his hastily-finished lunch, his waistband digging almost painfully into his bladder. Connor wasn’t faring any better, both cheeks and LED flushing a cheerful blue as he giggled. Apparently, the android had a snort-laugh, and the memory of the complete and utter _shock_ on Connor’s face when he first snorted had Gavin in another fit of giggles.

 

“H-holy _shit_ ,” he whimpered, grinning like a madman, “w-what happened after that?”

 

“Don’t tell him,” whined Connor between laughs, “p-please, _Hank_ —” Of course, the lieutenant ignored him, a cheeky smirk on his face.

 

“So, there I was, barbecue sauce on my titties—” this earned him a slap on the arm from Connor and even more hysterical laughter from Gavin—" _fine_ , there I was, breaking into Connor’s room and practically shitting myself because he’s screaming bloody fucking _murder_.” Hank took another swig from his soda. “And he’s cowering in a corner, pointing his gun at that fucking _roomba_.”

 

Gavin nearly choked on his spit, a pterodactyl-like screech erupting from him as he doubled over, laughing his ass off.

 

“Oh my _god_ ,” he wheezed, “holy _shit_ —”

 

“You would be scared too!” Connor huffed, giggling despite his words. “It had a knife!”

 

“S-stop!” whined Gavin, squeezing his legs together as the sudden urge to piss _right fucking now_ hit him.

 

“The famed deviant-hunter, defeated by a deviant _roomba_ ,” Hank gasped as he feigned swooning.

 

“ _Stoooop_.” Gavin was in tears now, still laughing despite the sudden anxiety in his gut. “S-stop, I’m—” Connor snorted again; the innocent surprise on his face was just too much. Gavin burst into another round of hysterical giggles. “ _Fuck_ , stop, I-I’m gonna—”

 

Oh.

 

_OH SHIT_.   

 

Gavin froze immediately, tensing his legs, sphincter muscles, _anything_ to stop the small but steady stream of urine that leaked out of him. The color drained out of his face as he realized what was happening. He was slowly pissing himself—he was _pissing himself_ , in front of his coworker and _superior_ , holy _shit_. And, no matter how hard he tried, he _couldn’t stop_. Connor noticed immediately, because life’s a bitch like that, and the android quickly stifled his giggles, cocking his head and looking at Gavin like a concerned puppy.

 

“D— _Gavin_ , are you okay?” At this, Hank stopped laughing too, not looking nearly as worried as Connor but certainly curious. Gavin tried to reassure him, convince the two that he was fine and not stressed and _not peeing himself like a fucking child_ , but the humiliation coupled with the quiet, primal fear at the back of his mind that _he was in danger, he needed to stop, he was bad and_ **_they_ ** _were going to hurt him_ made his throat lock up. All Gavin could manage was a thin squeak, and Connor’s LED flashed a sickening yellow ( _ha_ ), and the android was coming towards him, and he was still leaking, and Connor was going to _see_ ,  _fuck_ —

 

“Jesus, kid, calm down.” Hank held up his hands in a placating gesture. He laughed once, uncomfortable and stiff, “I didn’t know my jokes were _that_ bad.” The man reached out—for a brief moment, Gavin was _afraid_ —and placed his hand on Connor’s arm, a silent order to _back off_. Still, the android looked concerned, but he thankfully stayed in place.

 

“Gavin,” he murmured softly, gazing at him with those _god-damned_ warm brown eyes, “you need to breathe.”

 

He hadn’t even realized he was hyperventilating. This was bad, this was  _bad_ , there was no way in all _hell_ he’d be able to escape and get to a bathroom, or at least finish somewhere else, and they’d know, and _he was still peeing_.

 

Gavin’s vision blurred, tearing up for an entirely different reason. He buried his face in his hands, because it was _easier_ if he could pretend, just for a moment, that he wasn’t in public _in front of his coworkers_ , and finally let go. Urine poured down his legs, soaking his jeans and shoes, and splattered loudly on the ground. Connor’s eyes widened, letting out a soft _oh_ , as Hank turned away, grimacing sympathetically.

 

After an embarrassingly short time ( _seriously_ , he was _not_ a child, he should’ve been able to hold it), Gavin was finished. He could feel _eyes_ on him, and he curled up into himself, eyes shut tight and head down. Warm arms wrapped around him, making him flinch, but he was quickly shushed...and someone was petting his hair. _What the_ **_shit_ **.  

 

That someone ( _Connor_ , his shit-ass monkey brain supplied in a brief moment of coherency) pulled him in closer until his face was practically buried in the other’s jacket. Gavin sighed, a soft whine building in his throat, and he nuzzled further into the android’s shoulder, having absolutely no dignity left to defend. They stayed like that for what felt like hours, Gavin occasionally gasping and shaking, and Connor rubbing his back, shushing him and reminding him to breathe. Gavin was the first to pull away, flushing bright red, increasingly aware of the stench of urine and his pants clinging cold to his legs. Connor smiled gently as their eyes met.

 

“Hank’s already in the car,” he whispered softly, “we can get in if you’re ready. You can tie my jacket around your waist, if you want, and I have some sweatpants back at the precinct…” Gavin nodded mutely, staring at the ground as he got into the back seat, Connor right behind him. His hands shook slightly as he fumbled with the seatbelt, not daring to look Hank in the eye.

 

The drive back was stiflingly silent, at first, nobody willing to say anything, which just made Gavin want to cry _again_. But Hank piped up, recounting a particularly extravagant bet from his task force days, which made Connor fucking _honk_ , and Gavin felt the tension drain from the cramped cabin as he laughed weakly, the others joining in. It was okay. _He_ was okay, all was forgiven, he’d be fine…

 

“So,” Hank drawled as he whipped the Oldsmobile™ into the precinct’s parking lot at breakneck speeds, “remember the time I was so funny that you pissed yourself and cried?”

 

Gavin kicked the back of his seat. _Hard_.

 

(Despite himself, he was smiling).

**Author's Note:**

> quoth a friend in a discord: "That’s the worst because you’re having a great time and then you’re suddenly not."


End file.
